Her eyesight was getting worse as she entered the main ballroom, but she kept going, tripping over a cord and stumbling to stay on her feet. The ballroom appeared to be the central hub. A dozen long tables were set up, and cords were strewn everywhere to support the computers, laptops, servers, and who-knew-what-else that the army had arranged. There was a PC open and available right in front of her, but she could hardly make out the words on the screen. She headed toward the back of the room and through a door to the kitchen.

It was empty.

She breathed a sigh of relief and moved from cupboard to cupboard, trying to find one big enough to fit her inside. Finally, she came across a walk-in pantry with a heavy door. She made sure she could get out—there was a lever inside, too—and then pulled it closed. She sat in the corner, tucked between an enormous sack of potatoes and a crate of old oranges.

Aubrey smiled, smelling the old produce around her, and wondered what Jack would have thought of it. She’d noticed he was losing weight. The plainest of foods—bread or rice or even water—were so overpowering to him that he rarely ate as much as he should anymore.

She also wondered what he was thinking of her now. He knew that she was going to look for a place to hide, but the scent of Flowerbomb almost certainly couldn’t make it out this heavy door, and she’d seem to have disappeared completely. If he could track her at all. He swore he could, but he and Laura hadn’t been able to get very close. They were in an apartment nearly half a mile up the road.

So far, things had gone well. But all she’d done was get inside. She hadn’t tried to access a computer yet, or navigate the army’s systems. For now, she needed to rest. She took a drink from her water bottle and leaned back.

Aubrey didn’t know how much time had passed, but she felt stronger now. Her eyes were refocused—she was practicing reading the box labels across the pantry, and everything seemed to be clear. She had more energy and was ready to disappear again.

She reached in her fleece pocket and felt for the paper Laura had given her. There was also the little bottle of perfume, and she sprayed herself again before leaving. She was starting to love the smell.

She eased the pantry door open. The kitchen was still empty, the fluorescent lights only half-lit.

Aubrey hurried back to the ballroom. If possible, the room was even busier than before, with more soldiers at computer terminals and officers marching around giving angry commands.

Aubrey waited in a corner, away from the action for several minutes, watching for a computer to open up.

An officer walked nearby, talking on a cell phone and jamming a finger in his other ear so he could hear over the din of the room.

“Just get the message to him,” he said.

Aubrey moved a little closer to eavesdrop.

“I don’t give a damn about the Space Needle,” the officer said. “It’s a stupid tourist trap, and it was evacuated anyway. This is Boeing I’m talking about.”

There was a pause. Aubrey thought she knew what Boeing was, but couldn’t put her finger on it.

“You let him know,” the officer continued, “that we’re being destroyed out here. We can’t guard every business. Hell—we were guarding Boeing and it didn’t do any good. I’m not exaggerating when I say that we could be facing another Chicago up here.”

Boeing. They’d flown in a Boeing airliner. Was Boeing in Seattle?

A man stood and left his computer. Aubrey was tempted to stay and listen in on the conversation, but she didn’t dare.

She took his chair, sitting on the edge of it, exactly the way that he’d left it. He was still logged in.

The system wasn’t what she was expecting. It was older, less intuitive. She looked through the files on the screen, but didn’t see anything about the Lambdas.

She found a search bar and typed her name.

Aubrey Parsons Lambda

A picture of her appeared—a photo taken all the way back when they’d first been tested.

Aubrey Parsons

Lambda 4T: Limited form of invisibility (click here for medical report)

Special Forces 19th Battalion, ODA 9117

Currently stationed: Seattle, WA

The text continued, outlining her background and her eyesight problems, but there was nothing interesting there. It was all basic information—information she already knew and obviously not updated to reflect anything that had happened today.

Toward the bottom—she almost missed it—was the line “Ankle Band Detonation Code: 431-866795.” She deleted the number, and then searched to see if there was some kind of edit history where it could be retrieved, but the program looked old and all she could do was hope.

Next she searched for Jack.

Jack Cooper

Lambda 4T: Hypersensitivity (click here for medical report)

Special Forces 19th Battalion, ODA 9117

Currently stationed: Seattle, WA

She deleted his detonation code and then searched for “Laura Hansen Lambda.”

It was more of the same. Old information, probably not updated since they left Dugway a few days before. She deleted Laura’s detonation code.

She pulled the paper from her pocket.

Alec Moore Lambda

His picture popped up.

Alec Moore

Tested in the Dugway Quarantine Facility

No symptoms of the Erebus virus or Lambda attributes (click here for medical report)

Released to Salt Lake City transfer station October 9th

That picture. Aubrey recognized it. She knew him from somewhere. . . . Alec Moore. Who was that? It felt like only half a memory, like she’d seen him in a dream.

It was probably nothing. He’d been at Dugway. She’d probably seen him.

Next she searched for the other name Laura had given her.

Daniel Allen

Lambda 5M: Ability to manipulate the movement of minerals (click here for medical report)

Special Forces 19th Battalion, ODA 9128

Currently stationed: San Francisco, CA

Was found outside Price, UT, and surrendered willingly. Claimed to be hitchhiking to his home in Denver, CO, and his father corroborated the story.

Aubrey jotted down notes on where Dan Allen’s unit was located, and stuffed the paper back in her pocket. She deleted his detonation code as well; if they ever got to him, it needed to be deactivated.

She looked up to see where the soldier was, and found him a few tables away, talking to an officer. If anyone glanced over, they’d see the computer screen changing. She had to work faster.

She exited Dan’s profile and searched for “Space Needle.” The results came up empty.

Next she tried “Sergeant McKinney.”

21 results found.

Too many to dig through. Aubrey tried a couple more.

Sergeant Eschler

14 results found.

Captain Dane Rowley

2 results found.

She clicked on the first and knew instantly from the picture it wasn’t who she was looking for. She clicked the second.

His picture and profile were there, but above them, in bold type, were the words:

***UPDATE***

Killed in action while on a Special Reconnaissance mission watching over the Space Needle in Seattle, WA. Investigation is ongoing. It is known that he was given the order to terminate his Lambda team, and the Lambdas attacked and killed all but one member of his team. Shortly thereafter, the Space Needle was destroyed, collapsed by some unknown explosion or force. Initial reports indicate that the Lambda team assigned to CPT Rowley could not have accomplished this on their own, due to their particular skill set, and it is theorized they had additional help with the destruction.